Текст книги "Tough Enough"

Автор книги: M. Leighton

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Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

TWO

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So this is Weatherly O’Neal, I think as I watch the stunning raven-haired beauty slide onto a lounger by the pool and tip her face up to the sun. She’s wearing a tight camisole-type thing in red and a breezy wraparound skirt that shows off her long, slim legs when she sits down. Her skin glistens with a healthful glow after her bath. I can all but smell the sweet scent of her flesh from all the way over here.

It’ll be a long time before I can get the vision of her out of my head, particularly the one of her in the bathtub. I watched her for a few seconds before I spoke. Her eyes were closed, her head resting against the curved edge of the tub, and her slim fingers were teasing the most perfect nipples I’ve ever seen. They were rosy and hard and my mouth waters just recalling the way they poked wetly from the lush mounds of some seriously great tits.

Damn.

I didn’t get as good a look at the rest of her. Once I spoke and she sat up, all I could really focus on was her face. Heart-shaped, pale skin, plump lips just the right shade of pink. And her eyes . . . God, those eyes could make a man beg. If that body, with its round breasts, flat stomach, and smoothly shaved everything, wouldn’t do it, those eyes would. They’re a rich blue. Almost violet. They have an exotic shape to them that makes her look like she’s turned on all the time.

That or she was turned on.

I grit my teeth.

Double damn!

Yeah, her arrival is definitely not going to make things any easier for me. But nothing worth having is ever easy.

And I’d be willing to bet having her would be worth a lot of trouble.

I saunter down the dappled path to the patio that surrounds the pool. Weatherly’s head snaps toward me the instant my boot hits the hard surface and alerts her to my presence. Her mouth drops open the slightest bit and, for a second, there’s nothing but steam between us. Hell, I’m surprised the pool water isn’t evaporating.

I don’t stop until I’m standing over her, my shadow shading her face. She pushes her sunglasses up into the smooth sheet of her straight black hair and focuses those amazing eyes on me.

“I’m sorry that I interrupted your bath,” I say, pausing to inhale the decadent scent coming off her skin. “I’d have apologized at the time if I hadn’t been so . . . distracted.”

Her lips quirk, but just at the corners. “Distracted?”

“A bit, yes.”

“Hmm, what on earth had you distracted?”

She likes to play. God, this is going to be fun!

“The local . . . scenery changed today. It became much more . . . dazzling. Took my breath away, in fact. Made it hard for me to think. My manners went right out the window.”

“That’s understandable. I was a little, um, preoccupied myself.”

“I thought you might’ve been. You looked deep in . . . thought.”

Her lips spread all the way into a full-on smile this time, making her even more striking. The only sign of embarrassment is the tell-tale pink stains that appear on her cheeks.

“I was definitely . . . thinking.”

The innuendo is as thick as the humid air seems to be. “Care to share what had you focused so . . . intently?”

“No, not yet.”

“Not yet?” I ask. She shakes her head, mouth still curved. “Well, whenever you’re ready to talk, I’d love to hear all about it.”

“I might take you up on that.”

I nod. “Will you be eating in tonight?”

“I will, yes.”

“Is there something particular you’d like? I can let Mom know.”

“Anything that goes well with a Chiara red. I’m in the mood for red.”

“I see that,” I say, nodding to her red strappy top. “Anything else you’re in the mood for that I should know about?”

She shrugs her shoulders, drawing my eye to the crease of her cleavage. “A surprise. Surprise me.”

“Oh, I can definitely surprise you,” I reply with an enthusiastic grin.

“Will you be joining me tonight then? You and your mother, I mean?”

“Isn’t it frowned upon to mingle with the help?”

“Nobody is here to care, is there?”

“Not a damn soul,” I say. “Seven?”

She nods and lets her head drop back. The way she’s staring up at me with that sleepy, sexy look on her face . . . the way her body language seems to be begging me to touch, to taste, to take . . . Holy God!

I nod and turn to walk away, only because if I stay any longer, she’ll be coming out of those clothes. One way or the other.

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